On taking a break from life and being still being torn

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Sometimes you have to travel far in order to get home.
At least that's what I've been told.
And I have travelled, perhaps not in the vagabond-asia-backpacking sense, but in my own way. And I'm still not entirely sure of where I'm meant to wind up. As always I'm torn between two countries, several cities and loads of people.
Is this a bad thing? I'm not sure, because it all stems from a lot of love. Love for different cities and love for several friends and family members. I had the privilige of a safe haven to return to, and I had reached a point in my life when I could forgive, forget, move on and learn to love my home town and home country for what it is, rather than to despise it for what it used to represent to me.
I'm happy for that chance. I'm happy for the bike rides, the beer fuelled walks through Gothenburg, the nights out in Stockholm, the cups of coffee in Copenhagen.
The salt water, the sea air, the friends who knew me then and still want to know me now. The family members who are my solid ground and my reason for being.


I took a break from life.
But now I'm starting to feel like it's time to get back into the game, I'm starting to feel like this game I've been playing (the long haul kind) isn't satisfying enough for my impatient soul. There's a weird energy, maybe it's spring, sunshine or my normal fight or flee instinct kicking in, but something is a'brewing.